


Boy & Boy

by apollos



Category: Naruto
Genre: Fluff, M/M, One Shot Collection, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 14:34:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6156712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apollos/pseuds/apollos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Boruto and Mitsuki, from friends to lovers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Home is Where the Heart Is

**Author's Note:**

> i don't plan on adding to this but i might, who knows. for now, there's two oneshots, and the first is how they meet and the second is a smut oneshot, lol. also these were written before the boruto movie came out, so i had some more creative ideas about mitsuki's family origins, which i still prefer tbh.

Boruto was seven when he discovered Mitsuki. Discovered was the right word, too, because he happened upon him when they were outside during recess, Mitsuki sitting on the ground and staring up at the sky. Boruto had been playing with Shikadai, but then Shikadai had ditched him to go play with Inojin. Boruto felt abandoned but wouldn’t let it show; he was a popular kid, and just because nobody was playing with him at the moment didn’t make him any less popular. So he was walking along the field outside the academy with his hands in his pockets, kicking at the little pebbles in the ground, determinedly not pouting, when he happened upon Mitsuki.

Mitsuki was sitting in the shade of a tree, a pattern of leaves across his face. Boruto noticed two things immediately: he had bright blue hair, which reminded him of his mom and little sister’s funny-colored hair, and he was wearing really old-fashioned robes. The type that melted like ice cream down his body, that nobody except for Boruto’s weird, traditional Hyuga cousins ever wore. This, plus Mitsuki’s pale skin, plus the fact that Boruto had never seen the boy before and Boruto knew all the kids his age in the village, caused Boruto to come to the conclusion that Mitsuki could not be from this village. That Mitsuki had to be new. And new things were exciting.

“Hey! New kid!” Boruto called out, too loud for the distance away. He took his hands from his pocket and crossed his arms; he had seen his Dad do this whenever he got into a confrontation.

“Eh?” Mitsuki looked up and straight into Boruto’s eyes. It made him feel funny; his stomach did a flip and heat rose on his cheeks. Mitsuki was pretty. He was a boy, but he was _pretty_ , like Sarada and Aunt Sakura and his mom but in a different way. Boruto cocked his head.

“Why are you here all alone?”

“I’m new here.” Mitsuki rose to his feet in a fluid motion, his robes sweeping around him. He walked to Boruto. “I’m from another village.”

“Why are you in Konoha?”

Mitsuki shrugged. “My dad made us move.”

“Do you have a mom?” Boruto was thinking about his mom. Of course, he couldn’t fathom moving away from Konoha, but if for some reason his dad decided to, his mom would probably stop him.

 “Not anymore.”

“Oh.” Boruto felt sad for Mitsuki; much sadder than he would for any of the other children this age. Again he was thinking of his mom, so he said, “Well, I have a mom, and she’s great! She can be your new mom.”

“I think I would like to meet her before making that decision. What’s your name?” Mitsuki smiled; he had very white teeth. His demeanor was so mature, so cool, it made Boruto feel young and reckless in comparison.

“Uzumaki Boruto!” Boruto uncrossed his arms and struck a pose. “Son of Uzumaki Naruto, the legendary ninja! My mom is Uzumaki Hinata, she’s really strong too, and then I have a baby sister named Himawari who’s really little.”

“I’m Mitsuki.” Boruto cursed himself for not remembering to ask his name; his mom raised him better than this. “Nice to meet you.”

When Mitsuki extended his hand and Boruto grasped it to shake hands, Boruto felt a weird little spark of electricity.

They sat together for the rest of recess. It wasn’t really playing, like what Boruto did with Shikadai and Inojin and his other friends when they pretended to be ninja and threw paper shuriken at each other or raced each other across the field. Instead it was talking. Mitsuki told Boruto about his village, which he said was wet and cold all year round, totally unlike Konoha. Boruto told Mitsuki all about his family; Mitsuki said he had heard about Naruto and Hinata, because everybody had heard about Naruto and Hinata, and he agreed to meet Hinata when she came to pick him up from the academy.

So Boruto brought his friend along with him to meet his mom at the academy gates. Like always since Himawari had been born, she was cradled in his mom’s arms, and Boruto stood on his tippy-toes to coo at his baby sister. She smiled back at him. Then Boruto turned to his mom and said, “Mom, this is Mitsuki. He’s new and he’s my friend.”

“Hello, Mitsuki,” his mom said. She smiled and bounced Himawari in her arms. “Where are you from?”

Mitsuki, who had been hanging back—he looked like he was afraid of Himawari, which was silly, because Boruto was still on his toes, waggling his fingers in front of her face—came forward. “The Hidden Mist Village,” Mitsuki answered. He bowed. “I am enjoying Konoha very much.”

“That’s great. Where’s your parents?”

“My mom is dead,” Mitsuki said flatly. Boruto stopped playing with Himawari, dropping to his feet and turning to look at Mitsuki. His jaw dropped open and he felt panicked, thinking about what he would do if _his_ mom were dead.

“Oh,” Boruto’s mom said. He looked at her; she looked sad but kind. “And your father?”

Mitsuki shrugged. “He told me to walk home on my own.”

“That just won’t do, Mitsuki. You're too young. Boruto said you guys are friends?”

Mitsuki looked at Boruto, then back at Boruto’s mom, and nodded.

“Come with us, hon.”

Boruto’s mom slipped her hand in Boruto’s and they took off. Boruto noticed that Mitsuki was lagging behind, his hands awkward at his sides, and Boruto stopped and reached his hand out. Mitsuki raised his eyebrows by a fraction of an inch.

“My family always holds hands when we walk together,” Boruto said by way of explanation. This wasn’t an offer he would make to Shikadai or Inojin, who had moms of their own that were good but not as good as Boruto’s mom, and who would probably make fun of him if they saw Boruto holding hands with another boy. But they weren’t here and Boruto wanted to hold Mitsuki’s hand, kind of like how his mom and dad always held hands, because it felt nice when Mitsuki put his cool, smooth hand into Boruto’s, his eyebrows still raised.

On their walk, Mitsuki admitted he didn’t know where his new house was. Hinata said that that was fine and they would stop by the Hokage office; Boruto could see his dad, who was assisting Kakashi assess the threat of a renegade shinobi group with a few other jonin like Shikadai’s father that afternoon. Boruto instantly filled with excitement at the thought of seeing his father.

“He’s so cool!” he said to Mitsuki, tightening his grip on the other boy’s hand out of habit. “We can show him what we learned with the kunai today!”

“You don’t want to show me, Boruto?” his mom asked, her voice exaggeratedly hurt.

“Of course I do, mom, you’ll be there too. Can we do some gentle fist training today?” Boruto had been trying to learn the starting position in the past few weeks. It was going well, but his mom wanted to make sure he got it down perfectly, as much for his safety as for his opponent’s lack thereof.

 “We’ll see.”

“I _am_ excited to meet the great Naruto,” Mitsuki said. Boruto whipped his head around and grinned at him. Mitsuki smiled a very small smile back and squeezed Boruto’s hand.

When they arrived at the Hokage tower the chuunin on duty led them up immediately. Boruto was practically bouncing on his feet, excited to show off his new kunai moves and his new friend to his father. He also hoped that Kakashi would know where Mitsuki lived, and maybe Boruto could meet his father too, who had to be cool like Mitsuki (but not as cool as Boruto’s father, of course.) When the elevator doors opened, Boruto let go of Mitsuki’s hand on instinct and barreled into the Hokage’s office through the unlocked door.

His dad picked him up immediately when he lunged at him, then put him back down, laughing. “You’re excited today,” he said, ruffling Boruto’s hair. Boruto swatted at him. Kakashi watched lazily from his chair, his face buried beneath the hat and his mask.

Boruto’s mom, sister and Mitsuki walked in next. Boruto’s dad raised an eyebrow at his mom; she made some expression Boruto couldn’t read back. Then Himawari started crying, a sound which both annoyed and worried Boruto. He put his hands over his ears, and when he looked at Mitsuki, saw that Mitsuki was doing the same. They smiled at each other when they made eye contact.

“Can I see the baby?” Kakashi asked. Boruto’s mom nodded and took Himawari to Kakashi. She stopped crying when Kakashi held her, studying her like she was an interesting book more than a human baby.

Boruto’s dad walked over to Boruto’s mom and kissed her on the cheek, then stood behind her and asked, “So what’s up?”

“My friend can’t find his house,” Boruto interjected, pointing at Mitsuki. “He’s new.”

“Ah, yes, I recognize you,” Kakashi said from behind his desk. “You’re Mitsuki of the Hidden Mist, hm?”

Mitsuki nodded.

“I can look your address up for you. Your father’s on his mission?”

Mitsuki nodded again, except this time he bowed a little and said, “Thank you.” Boruto laughed; it was funny to see somebody treat Kakashi with that much respect. Everybody Boruto knew treated Kakashi like a friendly uncle more than the Hokage and Kakashi didn’t mind it.

With Himawari cradled in one arm and trying to reach for the Hokage hat, Kakashi located one folder in the many on his desk and looked Mitsuki’s address up. In the meantime, Boruto ran back to his dad. “Dad, Mitsuki and I learned kunai moves at the academy, you wanna see?”

“I don’t think it’s safe to practice them in here, buddy. You can show me later.”

“But Mitsuki…” For some reason, Boruto wanted to show off their moves together. They had partnered up today to practice, and they worked well together, even better than Boruto and his normal partner did. “I know. Mitsuki, you can write your address down for now, and you can come hang out at my house.”

“You’re forgetting something, Boruto,” his mom said, gently.

“Oh, yeah! Can he?” Boruto tugged on his dad’s jacket, looking up at him.

“Of course,” his dad said. He looked at Mitsuki, another strange expression that Boruto couldn’t read on his face. Boruto looked at Mitsuki too, expectantly. “If Mitsuki wants to, that is.”

“I would love to.” Mitsuki bowed again. Boruto laughed.

“Here it is! Mitsuki, 112 Snail Street. And here’s your baby—she’s gotten a bit smelly.”

So with Himawari back in Boruto’s mom’s arms (with a changed diaper) and Mitsuki and Boruto in tow, they left behind Boruto’s dad and Kakashi to continue working and then went back to Boruto’s house, which wasn’t far from the Hokage tower. Boruto led Mitsuki around and showed him everything, all the rooms, their furniture, the backyard where they trained. Then they ate lunch together; his mom even made something special, ramen, since Boruto had a friend over.

“Ramen is my favorite food,” Mitsuki said, slurping his noodles from across the table at Boruto.

Boruto felt that funny flip in his stomach again. “Mine and my dad’s, too. We eat it almost every day. Mostly for dinner, though.” He stuffed his mouth with noodles, afraid that he would start rambling on about ramen and lose Mitsuki’s interest. But Mitsuki just smiled.

After lunch, Boruto’s dad came home for a little bit and Boruto and Mitsuki showed off their new kunai moves to Boruto’s parents in the backyard. They were of equal skill level and worked together perfectly; his mom and dad cheered when they were finished. Even Mitsuki smiled the biggest Boruto had seen him smile when his dad complimented him on his form.

Then Boruto’s mom had to go nurse Himawari and his dad had to go back to work, so Boruto and Mitsuki sat down in front of the television to watch a ninja movie. Boruto kept stealing glances of Mitsuki throughout the whole thing; this movie was one of his favorites, but it was neat to see how Mitsuki reacted to all of the best parts. It was like Mitsuki did everything on a smaller level—his smiles, his eyebrow movements, even his steps. So Boruto watched his mini-reactions and reacted as boisterously as he usually did, and Boruto loved it whenever he got a slightly bigger reaction out of Mitsuki.

“Are you having fun?” Boruto asked after the movie’s credits. It was later afternoon; his dad would come home for real soon and he and Boruto would train in the backyard, his mother joining too if they were lucky and Himawari wasn’t being fussy. Boruto was afraid that Mitsuki would leave, that he would feel out of place, which Boruto didn’t want at all. Boruto wanted Mitsuki to stay; Boruto wanted to see if he could get a full, real reaction out of Mitsuki to something.

“Lots of fun,” Mitsuki responded. “It’s quiet at my house, even before my mom died. It’s not quiet here. Your mom is so nice.”

“My parents are the best in all of Konoha,” Boruto said in agreement. “My dad is coming home soon and when he does, we’re gonna train. Do you want to join in?" All of Boruto’s friend always wanted to train with Boruto and his dad, but not for Boruto so much as for his father, hoping they could be as powerful as him. It kind of annoyed Boruto—Boruto was strong, too, and he didn’t want his dad spreading their special time together around the neighborhood. But it was different with Mitsuki; Boruto didn’t care if he used his dad as a bargaining tool as long as Mitsuki would stay.

“I’d love to train with you, Boruto,” was Mitsuki’s next words, though. “We work well together, don’t you think?”

“Yeah.” Boruto nodded, wide-eyed.

Himawari was unfortunately fussy tonight, so Hinata couldn’t join them in training. But Naruto was happy to show Mitsuki and Boruto some taijutsu kicks, and even had them try their chakra out on some leaves. This devolved into Mitsuki and Boruto having a competition of who could keep the leaf in the air using just their breath the longest, and before Boruto noticed it was dark and his dad was inside and his mom was calling dinner.

Boruto sat between across from Himawari and next to Mitsuki at dinner, his mom next to Himawari, who wasn’t eating anything but playing with her toys, with his dad at the head of the table. Dinner was as good as it usually was and Mitsuki fed Boruto’s mother compliments, which Boruto took for himself. He was so happy that Mitsuki was impressed with his family; he hoped Mitsuki would never want to leave.

And Mitsuki didn’t. It was Boruto’s dad who made the offer for Mitsuki to stay the night since his father was on a mission and he was really too young to stay in a new house on his own. Boruto’s mom reminded them that it was a school night and Mitsuki could stay but they would have to go to bed at Boruto’s bedtime. Boruto didn’t care at all; after they helped with the dishes they went to the living room to watch some more television, and then Boruto’s mom made Mitsuki a little bed on the couch and it was time for showers and bed.

“I don’t have a change of clothes,” Mitsuki said after being told this.

“You can wear some of Boruto’s to bed, if you don’t mind, and I’ll wash your robes for the morning, okay?” Boruto’s mom said. They had enough bathrooms for Boruto and Mitsuki to shower at the same time; his mom sent Mitsuki into the bathroom on the first floor with towels and some of Boruto’s pajamas, then sent Boruto to the one on the second floor. Boruto showered and changed as fast as possible, running down the steps to meet Mitsuki when he came out. Mitsuki took a little longer and came out of the shower with his hair somehow messier and his robes neatly folded in his arms.

“Just put them on the table, my mom will get them,” Boruto said. “She’s with Himawari right now. I guess she’s having a bad day.”

“Babies can have bad days?” Mitsuki asked; Boruto recognized it as a joke and laughed.

Boruto lingered while Mitsuki got into his couch-bed. Boruto’s mom tucked him in every night, and she would probably come down to make sure Mitsuki was okay, too. Boruto’s parents didn’t go to bed until much later than Boruto and Himawari, being adults and all. Still Boruto stayed and talked, feeling like there was something he should do, until he came up with the answer.

He kissed Mitsuki on the cheek.

Mitsuki placed his hand over the spot where Boruto had kissed it and crumpled his face up at him. He didn’t look angry—just confused. “Why’d you do that?”

Boruto blushed furiously. “It’s just what we do!” he said, crossing his arms, suddenly regretting it.

But then Mitsuki beckoned Boruto back down and kissed him on the cheek, too.

“I like it here,” Mitsuki said, smiling fully at Boruto.


	2. Two Lovers' Reprieve

The mission is filthy. That’s the only way to describe it, Mitsuki thinks. They’ve been wading through mud and muck for days, no time to shower or even change clothes, camping out in treetops all the while praying they didn’t get struck by lightning in the storm. There is a layer of dirt coating Mitsuki’s face; his fingernails are black; they are not allowed to do anything but stealthily travel towards the target, communicating only in hand signals and glances.

Silence would be fine as long as there was touch, but sleeping out in the open instead of in tents means that Mitsuki does not get to get close to Boruto at all. The only time he’s had contact with Boruto this whole week was when they stopped for Boruto to heal a hole left in Mitsuki’s chest carved by an enemy’s sword, the blade snapped off in Mitsuki’s flesh. That had hurt like a bitch but he’d maintained eye contact with Boruto the whole time, the cool familiarity of Boruto’s chakra stirring something inside Mitsuki. But as soon as it was done Boruto had withdrew his hands, wiped the sweat off his brow and lunged off through the trees, the rest of their team following him.

Sexual frustration at its finest—who thought it a good idea to send three sixteen-year-olds on this mission? Even with Sasuke at the helm it’s been a nightmare for them, long and grueling in all the worst ways, cold and damp and _filthy_. All to get a scroll that the leader of a small renegade ninja group has stolen from Konoha and then wipe them out. So, so not worth it; this is the mantra that runs through Mitsuki’s head as he runs through the trees.

The village that they track the ninja group down to is no different from the forest, everything gray and dank, including the villagers. Then it’s disguises to work their way inside the group so they can infiltrate it; their mission doubles as retrieval and assassination. It’s the group’s first S-rank. Maybe Mitsuki would be more excited if he hadn’t just spent a week coated in a lifetime’s worth of dirt.

But: before the disguises, before the hard, actual work part of their missions, they are allowed one night of rest at the local inn. This includes a _shower_. It’s Boruto and Mitsuki in one room, Sasuke and Sarada in another, and as soon as they’re alone and allowed to speak Mitsuki says,

“God.” He pulls off a muddy ninja shoe. “This is going to be the best shower of our _lives_ , Bolt.”

“That’s Borumaru to you, Mitsumaru,” Boruto says, throwing a smirk over his shoulder at Mitsuki as he pulls his own shoes off.

“Who chose our codenames, anyway? They’re terrible.” Another shoe.

“My dad.” Boruto rolls his eyes. There goes his vest, his jacket; he’s in his chainmail and pants, coming over to Mitsuki to sit beside him while Mitsuki pulls off his robes and then works to undo the bandages from where Boruto had healed him. “He has the creativity of a dull rock. My sister could’ve come up with better.”

“Need I remind you that your sister is at a higher rank than us?” Mitsuki raises an eyebrow. Boruto glares at him, moving his hand to his weapons pouch, and Mitsuki laughs and shoves him. When they straighten up, Mitsuki fingers the hem of Brotuo's pants and says, voice, low, "Get undressed, I want to shower already.”

Five minutes later—four of which were spent trying to figure out how the shower works, exactly—Mitsuki and Boruto are naked and under hot water, sludge running down the drain. Mitsuki is taller than Boruto—not by much, but by enough that holding the soap over his head is kind of funny, and when Boruto arches to get it back he slams chest-first into Mitsuki, knocking Mitsuki’s back against the wall. The fixtures of the shower rattle, and they both snort.

“They’re going to think we’re fucking,” Mitsuki says.

Boruto, soap forgotten, reaches down and cups Mitsuki’s cock. “Is that not what we’re doing?” he asks, innocence on his face, his head tilted.

So Mitsuki slams into Boruto like Boruto had done to him, and then it’s lips on lips and hips on hips and all thoughts of getting clean forgotten. It had only been a week, Mitsuki keeps telling himself, seven days since they’ve last done this, but, well. Boruto’s skin is so _smooth_ , it’s unnatural. Smooth and cool even in the hot water, even when still coated in granules of dirt, even to Mitsuki’s tongue as he runs it down Boruto’s chin, his neck, his stomach, the wisps of hair that trail down to the good part, and then Boruto is inside of Mitsuki’s mouth and Mitsuki is smiling up at him. Boruto starts to wash Mitsuki’s hair, rubbing circles into Mitsuki’s head as Mitsuki sucks away, trying to get Boruto to lose composure and tug hopelessly. It doesn’t take long—Boruto’s fingers hook in the strands, his hips starting to twitch.

When he comes, Mitsuki doesn’t swallow. Instead he stands up and holds his tongue out, showing Boruto.

“Gross,” Boruto says, crinkling his nose.

Mitsuki swallows. “Nice and thick and white. You've been eating better. It’s been too long.”

“It’s been a _week_.” The whine in Boruto’s voice betrays whatever comeback he wanted to make; instead it sounds like he agrees; instead Mitsuki grabs him by the shoulders and turns him around, positions him directly under the shower head. The water hitting his skin and bouncing off is kind of beautiful; with one hand holding both of Boruto’s and one on his lower back, Mitsuki pauses for a moment to admire it. The shower is small and they are tall boys, cramped and dirty and smelly, but Mitsuki feels…charmed. Charmed by the needy little noises Boruto is making but the way his hands are still beneath Mitsuki’s fingers. Charmed by the way there are goosebumps rising on both their skin even though steam is filling the bathroom. Charmed by how Boruto looks over his shoulder, his face flushed, his hair matted with water, droplets sliding down the architecture of his cheekbones, and says, “What the fuck are you waiting for, Christmas?” and juts his ass back.

“’Kay,” Mitsuki says, biting his tongue between his teeth. It still tastes like semen, but he likes the taste of Boruto's come, likes how there's a sweet edge to the salt. He slicks himself and Boruto up with some soap and wonders absentmindedly if it burns, but Boruto doesn’t complain, so he plunges his fingers in his hole for some quick prep work. It has been a week, after all; Boruto is tight but Mitsuki relaxes him quickly, coaxing it out of him as he strokes his inner muscles, smiling when he notices that Boruto’s getting hard again. Mitsuki wishes they had all day; they could use it, every second, to its last drop. “Entering now,” he says, lining up the tip of his cock and Boruto’s hole, then nudging it in.

He lets go of Boruto’s hands; one flies to the shower wall, keeping himself propped up, the other to his dick. Mitsuki’s settle on Boruto’s ass, gripping that supple, smooth flesh between his fingers so that it dimples into trenches, treasuring the way Boruto is opening himself so completely in this moment, whimpering and throwing his head back so he can watch. Mitsuki knows that Boruto likes to play tough and take risks but here he is a spineless thing that Mitsuki can shape at his will. Mitsuki fucking loves that. Fucking _loves_ that he can plow into Boruto and Boruto will beg for it still, imploring Mitsuki to go harder, harder, _harder_ , until Mitsuki feels like he's back at the Academy, running laps that'll never end, with his chest tight and his breath gone and his spirit so _alive_.

Boruto comes for a second time; the contraction of muscles around Mitsuki’s cock throw him into orgasm, too, so strong it knocks him back. Then they’re both sitting on the floor of the shower, somehow, their foreheads leaning into each other, and Mitsuki’s eyes sort of burn—when did he get soap in them?—but he pumps chakra towards them so he can keep them open despite the pain, because Boruto’s smile post-sex is Boruto’s best smile.

“Worth the wait?” Mitsuki asks. His hands search around on the shower floor until they find one of Boruto’s, lacing their fingers together.

“No.” Boruto shakes his head. “Never want to wait again.” He kisses Mitsuki, a slow, languid thing that makes Mitsuki melt. Mitsuki finds it incredibly curious how that works; sex barely affects him, but once Boruto is like this, affectionate and clingy and—dare he say it— _adorable_ , Mitsuki is as lost as a single survivor of a shipwreck. He nudges just as close as he can to Boruto, whispers “I love you,” under his breath, knows Boruto hears it because he can feel him smile.

They’re going to have to leave the shower eventually, going to have to return to their room, get dressed and settle in to sleep to get up nice and early. They’re going to have to trudge out before the sun rises and start the second phase of their mission, which will be filthy in a whole new way. They’re going to have to a long time—hell, maybe even another week—before they get to do this again. And that's if they even survive. But for now they can pretend that they do not have to do any of that, that there's no threat of death above their heads; for now they can drag a washcloth over each other’s bodies and clean away any evidence of impurity; for now they can relax; for now they can love.


End file.
